Hansel's Holiday

I take Sofya to Belgrade
And check into
A gingerbread hotel

The bars are still
And a gipsy with piercings
And wet mop hair
Tells me of fairy godmothers
And sisters of evil

‘This isn’t a kid’s book,’ he says.

By then hot ass Sofya had taken
The door keys and a cab
Without dinner

A red faced Hungarian driver
Offered a lift
In a large Volvo
‘Cause he’d read
My poems of topless rooms

And Sofya watching television
Without subtitles

On entering the room
The first thing I did
Was pull the rest off
Before checking the window
For man eating witches.